'Somali man accused of murdering his wife by setting her on fire is cleared by a jury after he explains she accidentally splashed the white spirit on herself, then set herself ablaze when she was cooking his porridge'

mordacious1 wrote: ↑
My wife (who works with children with special needs), wants me to quit using the word “retard”. I do pretty well with that request, until you guys link to the thinking (or lack thereof) of PZ Molars.

Might I suggest you replace "retard" with another suitably descriptive word? Perhaps "waterhead" would fit the bill? Try it out, take it for a spin and see how it feels.

A former GF was a social worker and scolded me for using 'retarded' to describe the mentally retarded. The official PC social worker (social woker?) term was now 'Developmentally Disabled.' Which, with three times as many syllables, is too goddamn long. So I started calling them De-Di's. She said that was bad, too, but later admitted to calling them De-Di's at work because it was faster.

Matt Cavanaugh wrote: ↑
A former GF was a social worker and scolded me for using 'retarded' to describe the mentally retarded. The official PC social worker (social woker?) term was now 'Developmentally Disabled.' Which, with three times as many syllables, is too goddamn long. So I started calling them De-Di's. She said that was bad, too, but later admitted to calling them De-Di's at work because it was faster.

Dee-Da's is a colloquial reference for the good people of Sheffield around those parts and if you've ever met them then De-Di's is a close enough description. ;)

Lsuoma wrote: ↑
What did the coroner in Paris sing as he closed up the body bags?

Zip-a-de-Dodi,
Zip-a-de-Di

Speaking of coroners...

A young guy gets a job as an assistant mortician. On his first day, the boss takes him into the mortuary and gives him his first job - to wash, dress and put makeup onto the corpse of a young woman who died in a traffic accident. The instructions given, the boss leaves the new guy to get on with his work and retires to his office to complete some paperwork. Ten minutes into the paperwork, the new guy pokes his head around the door...

New guy: Hey boss, out of curiosity, which body of water was this girl swimming in when she drowned?
Boss: She didn't drown, she was killed in a three-car pileup. Now, stop yammering and get back to work.

The new guy shrugs and heads back into the mortuary leaving the boss to continue flying his desk. Ten minutes later the new guy returns and once again pokes his head around the door...

New guy: Hey boss, this girl who drowned, was it a motorboat that hit her head and caused all that damage?
Boss (getting angry): Listen, I've already told you, she died in a fucking traffic accident. What makes you think she drowned?
New guy: Well, I'm sure she drowned because she's still got a prawn in her knickers from when they pulled her out of the water.
Boss (incredulous): What on Earth are you talking about? Show me...

The two of them head into the mortuary and approach the body of the young woman. The new guy pulls apart her legs, hooks her knickers aside and points...

New guy: There, see? A prawn!
Boss: You fucking idiot, that's not a prawn, that's her clitoris!
New guy: Well, it tastes like a prawn...

Bhurzum wrote: ↑
I mentioned this a while back but my #1 doco is "Tim's Vermeer" - it's a truly captivating insight into art and possibly explains the near photographic quality of the Dutch master's work.

Ukip has selected an anti-feminist Eurosceptic YouTube commentator as a candidate should the UK take part in European Parliament elections next month.

“We went through an exhaustive process to sift over 190 potential candidates down to those the national executive committee representatives and I felt were most suitable,” Ukip leader, Gerard Batten said.

And Sargon is the best they came up with...

Thing I liked most on the whole page was the positioning of a promo pic from a clickbait page of funny wildlife pics...

Brive1987 wrote: ↑
Maybe not so much liberal fascism as the triumph of the left over the centre left and middle.

I pretty much disagree with a lot of what Scruton says on art, he invokes things like the soul, god without any real evidence as of they were givens, as well as having been a secret paid press lobbyist for the Tobacco industry but he was unfairly monstered on this occasion, with the fraudulent help of George Eaton at the New Statesman who tweeted selective quotes that got passed around and considers any criticism of the term "islamophobia " as forboden . Probably should never have been appointed to the post he got thrown off in the first place though.
I was at art school in the mid 80s with his first wife - a pleasant French woman called Danielle - and a promising artist at the time - I think they had separated by that point.

I'm thinking Sweden could be a Poontang smorgasbord for the right guy, a.k.a., me, and here's why. All the women in Sweden are now radical feminists, while all the men are simpering male feminists ally cucks. But we know from research (okay, salon articles) that feminist women despise feminist men and secretly want to be made love to caveman style by a real man. And most Swedish women are hawt. (Not as hawt as Danish women, but Danish women aren't as desperate). By my back-of-the-envelope calculations, there are approximately 2.3 million hawt adult Swedish women, but only 374,218 manly Swedish men, and most of the latter are already the former's auto mechanics. And since half of Swedes drive Saabs, 1.15 million of those hawt Swedish women need a mechanic even worse than a boyfriend. Which leaves 1.87 million hawt Swedish women who have no real man for intimacy that doesn't involve a ball gag and a strap-on. Sweden's women are so desperate, they consider that old fat Wallander guy a sex symbol. Obi wan kenobi could sense the collective throbbing from space.

The 19 cups of coffee a day swedes drink will help me, but I might die from exhaustion. Still, I believe I have found my calling.

I'm thinking Sweden could be a Poontang smorgasbord for the right guy, a.k.a., me, and here's why. All the women in Sweden are now radical feminists, while all the men are simpering male feminists ally cucks. But we know from research (okay, salon articles) that feminist women despise feminist men and secretly want to be made love to caveman style by a real man. And most Swedish women are hawt. (Not as hawt as Danish women, but Danish women aren't as desperate). By my back-of-the-envelope calculations, there are approximately 2.3 million hawt adult Swedish women, but only 374,218 manly Swedish men, and most of the latter are already the former's auto mechanics. And since half of Swedes drive Saabs, 1.15 million of those hawt Swedish women need a mechanic even worse than a boyfriend. Which leaves 1.87 million hawt Swedish women who have no real man for intimacy that doesn't involve a ball gag and a strap-on. Sweden's women are so desperate, they consider that old fat Wallander guy a sex symbol. Obi wan kenobi could sense the collective throbbing from space.

The 19 cups of coffee a day swedes drink will help me, but I might die from exhaustion. Still, I believe I have found my calling.

If you need help, I have extensive experience with Saab two-stroke engines, and even the nasty four stroke Ford Taurus V6 they moved to in 1967.

I don't know how many strokes you are planning to help these desperate Swedish ladies with, but I can handle the wrenches if you handle the wenches.

Eric Carlsson and Pat Moss, a marriage made in front wheel drive, two-stroke free-wheel heaven, where all the clouds of smoke are blue.